Humanizing the Villain
by LetGo-LetOpenDoorsOfPurgatory
Summary: (8x23 SPOILER ALERT) Naomi feels a swarm of human emotions before Metatron takes it upon himself to neutralize her. [Mentions of Castiel and the Winchesters. Metatron is present]


**Humanizing the 'Villain'.**

**A/N: I basically enjoyed writing this. We didn't get to have much insight into how Naomi died so I figured writing this would be a nice thing to do. I figured with the way she talked to Castiel that the way this fic is written was how she probably felt.**

Naomi was frightened at this point. She had gone to Dean and Castiel to plead for Castiel's help, his forgiveness. "_As for you, Castiel, I beg of you stop this path. Metatron has been neutralized._" Oh how she hoped he would listen. She was unaware of the fact Castiel hadn't been told what the third trial for Heaven had been – but she needed his help nonetheless. When she winged herself back up to Heaven after insisting Dean and Castiel go save Sam she let the depth of things set in. Sam Winchester, the so-called abomination, was willing to sacrifice his life for Hell to be closed off. Naomi wanted that. Oh, she wanted it so much but for what reason? For what grounds at this point? Dean, whether she like it or not, had saved Castiel many times, protected the angel as if he were his own brother and _always _welcomed him back. Metatron had brought something to light beneath Naomi's cold, hard surface. Something she didn't understand why she had lost sight of; family and love. Somehow the feelings where stirring violently in her stomach and heart. They were swarming her head and causing everything to swim. How could she have even forgotten Heaven's mission to begin with?

They were to be humanity's shepherd. Oh yes, she remembered what her brother had told her. She also remembered what she had said in return, too. Naomi couldn't believe how Heaven had lost sight of everything – their mission, their objectives – they were created to protect what their Father had made, and look at them! They were savages scrabbling for the last bone. Naomi couldn't quite return to Metatron. She needed a few moments to think. She swept off to her office and placed herself into her usual perch. Her fingers interlaced with one another as her lips pursed. The tears continued to fall. She didn't understand. She was feeling emotions on such a human level it was frighteningly surreal. Naomi had been appointed to this job because she was _created _for it. Everything she did she was created to do. Yet, she couldn't help but to feel to blame for how everything was turning out.

She had tried, really, _really_ tried. Bless Castiel and his wishes to fix things. Maybe if she had listened to his pleas to start with – instead of trying to fix it herself, maybe just maybe the two siblings would be on wonderful grounds. Maybe Castiel wouldn't have been manipulated again, maybe his mental state wouldn't have been so messed with, maybe everyone(even the Winchester's) would have been alright. Naomi quietly wiped away the tears with the back of one of her hands. She's done it now. She's messed everything up and she's well aware of it. She can't blame Castiel. She drove him away with her attempts to reel him in. Maybe the saying, what was it again? Maybe the saying "everything happens for a reason" stood true with him. Perhaps Castiel was created to do the things he's done, maybe he was created to make a point to all other angels. Castiel had always been...peculiar compared to others. Naomi had made it to be a bad thing.

Maybe it wasn't.

Naomi deliberated and debated and ran over everything in her head. She even went as far back as Mesopotamia.

"Oh Father," She lamented, "What have I done? For what cost is all of this?!" She cried out, staring up toward the ceiling of her pristine office as if begging to be heard. She bowed her head once more. The lights in her office windows shone more brightly than ever. The heavenly light radiated through the room, making it seem almost like paradise. If only Naomi could lock herself in here forever and never have to worry about a thing again. Hah, if only.

That's when it happened.

A hand grabbed her by the bun of her hair. Her blue eyes widened. The tears had dried at this point as Metatron pulled her head back and made her look at him.

"You told him, didn't you?" He asks her. Naomi only swallows in return. "Ah, see, because of your little mind games with Castiel he is not going to trust you." Metatron taunted. Naomi's face only contorts into pain and fear. The once heavenly looking face has been broken down to utter apprehension and pleading.

"Please, Metatron – you mustn't do this." She breathes out, her blue eyes glistening. It's all over now. She knows it. She wasn't a hero. She could never be a hero for Heaven. She had turned Castiel against her and in short? This was all her fault. Heaven was about to be _non-existent _because of her. She only had herself to blame.

"Oh, but I do have to do this." He counters. His free hand is grappling the bloody weapon that she had used to poke into his mind earlier. The blood still fills his eye and streams down the side of his face, his anger was apparent. The sheer decibel of crazed and feral anger that burned in his eyes and contorted his lips into the maddened smile scared Naomi. This is what happened when angels tried to deal with emotions on certain levels. They weren't built for this. They weren't built for any of it! And here Naomi sat feeling the most grotesque kind of fear she could've imagined. Not for herself, but for Heaven – for Castiel, the Winchester's.

"And he didn't believe you. Of course he wouldn't believe you. Who would believe a worthless angel such as yourself? You're nothing. You play by the rules – you drove me from my home – and for that? You must pay. All of you." Naomi's bottom lip begins trembling. "Please." She begs. Metatron has none of it. He forces her head down onto the shining glass desk. Naomi's hands struggle as she grips at the desk, trying to push away. Her body jerks and thrashes.

"Castiel!" She screams out into the Heavens, she tries to send a signal to the angel who had long since turned off his "radio". She'd do anything for him – oh she'd do anything for her brother if he'd just come and help her! She needed Castiel to help. She was praying he'd help, praying he'd end this just like he was so desperate to. Castiel deserved that one thing: penance. He was a good angel despite many things he's done and Naomi began to realize that.

"Castiel cannot save you." Metatron warns. Naomi thrashes again, the tears are spilling down her face and the sobs come out in slight chokes and hiccups as she tries to get away from the furious angel. She was a caged bird at this point. You could almost say she was hanging by a length of rope.

"No order." Metatron preaches. Naomi cries out again, Castiel's name coming out in a higher pitch. "No forgiveness."

"Castiel_, please!"_

"No mercy."

"_CASTIEL!" _Her voice rings through the office, the sound vibrating through Heaven.

"You told him." Metatron reminded her. She began to tremble more at this reminder. Oh she had. But he hadn't believed her. "He didn't believe you. Good. You cried to him and he wouldn't believe you – you deserve that. You deserve every bit of isolation you get before you die. You're a scared, frightened little angel who doesn't know how to do her job. None of you do! Father left because of you insolent morons. You don't know how to run this place – you never could." The words cut her like a knife. He was right, wasn't he? She deserved isolation and death but she couldn't accept the death. Not by him.

"Please." Naomi pleads helplessly once more as her eyes try to stare up to the ceiling. She prays for her Father to take this moment to return, to save her, to restore Heaven, and allow punishment to fall upon her head as it should.

"No." Metatron replied simply. She screams out again, begging for help and yet no one hears the screaming.

The tears were constant. She closes her eyes for a moment as she thinks upon everything, knowing what's coming. She silently prayed Castiel could have a life beyond this – that he could, truly and honestly, have free will. Her mistakes were irreversible she was well aware, and perhaps he was too, but he tried. And that meant something to Naomi whether she'd admit it or not. Castiel loved his family. And he was trying to make it up to them, even considering the true depth of what he had done, that was still a feat that many power hungry angels that had been neutralized in the past hadn't done. If only this once Castiel would just be his belligerent, stubborn self. If only he could save her. He was her only hope at this point and she knew it.

"Just remember a little something." Metaton growls in her ear as he keeps his fingers locked around her silken tresses. "You've always been a bit of a bitch." Naomi swallows. That _disgusting _term was enough to tear her to shreds. For what grounds did he have to call her this? Yes, she had done her wrong, but the term had always infuriated her.

"It's funny, y'know." Naomi countered. "It's funny how you think that'll do more damage than anything to me – and you know what? It doesn't!" The angel managed to let out a harsh laugh. Metatron's grip tightened.

"Well that's too bad, isn't it now?" Naomi stared out, one last tear streaming down her face.

"I suppose so. But just know this," Naomi warned. Her voice wavered and trembled as she sat there staring down death. "Castiel _will _get his revenge. Even if it's not for me – you'll be on his list next. He always finds a way. Always." Metatron only laughed at this. Naomi knew what he was thinking – he was about to make all the angels fall – but Metatron just did _not _know her brother the way she did. She had been in his head, regrettably, enough. Naomi smiled a small, tired smile to herself as she thinks of what will happen. Castiel had never been one to listen and at this moment in time? It made her...proud? Happy? It made her something to call her brother. The tear hit the floor and down fell the weapon in a forceful thrust. Naomi's muscles relaxed, her body slumping against the desk as the blood began to pour and stain over the clear, sparkling glass.

_Angels, they're falling. _


End file.
